


Courtesy

by kribban



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kribban/pseuds/kribban
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shelly can't help but take a liking to his young prisoner.  Set during "Justice for All."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courtesy

An hour passes before he goes down to see her. It's not as if he's trying to make her nervous, it's just that he has other things to attend to first, like using his computer to hack into the police department's intranet for information on his client's current situation.

There's no doubt in his mind that Mr Wright is a gifted attorney, as proven by his track record. He just needs the right motivation, and that is something that Shelly intends to provide.

The kidnapping had gone smoothly. No one had seen him drive off, and even if they had they wouldn't have seen anything unusual. Just a young girl who'd had a bit too much to drink and were driven home safely by her chauffeur, seat belt on and everything.

After making sure that his client is safe in a private detention cell, it's time to pay his young guest a visit. Shelly sighs as he rises from his chair. Hopefully the rest of the assignment will go as smoothly,

The light from the door way barely reaches her where she sits at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes are squinting from the drugs and her hair is a mess, but he doesn't smell a hint of fear on her. This is a good thing. People who are scared don't act rationally, and what he needs more than anything right now is someone who will follow orders. 

He explains the rules to her and she nods without speaking. He tells her she's not his assignment, and has nothing to fear from him until she is. It's not a threat. He doesn't see much point in threatening her with something he has no influence over.

The next few hours pass slowly. He spends them watching the news and tending to his equipment. He makes sure to clean his gun carefully. It's not a tool he often uses, but it has served him well today. 

Perhaps he should use it on the Fey girl, should it come to that? He dismisses the thought quickly. Shooting someone in this house would leave blood traces, no matter how careful he was. 

In his possession he also has two small bottles of his trade mark poison, made from his old family recipe. His mother had taught him to brew it, as her father had before her and his father before him. It's supremely deadly, killing a victim painlessly within a few seconds. Unfortunately, it can only be digested, and while he probably could trick the girl into drinking it, it wouldn't feel right. He's never felt comfortable cheating people in their final moments.

No, one of his trusted scarves will have to do, just like with Mr. Corrida. He's not looking forward to the task, but he's killed girls her age before and has never lost any sleep over it.

Mr Engarde's arrest is all over the news. It's not that often that a major television star is suspected for such a serious crime as murder, and it's apparent that some of the reporters are more used to covering gossip than legal procedures. 

He lets his mind drift to thoughts of his house in Bulgaria, of the widespread white beaches and the warm, forgiving ocean. He's almost completely lost in memories when the slight creak of the cellar door interrupts him. 

*** 

It takes no real effort to manhandle the Fey girl back to the cellar. His grip is hard on her arm and she stumbles a little on the stairs. 

"I would strongly advise you to cooperate for the remainder of your stay."

She nods briefly, but looks impatient rather than intimidated. "Please, can I have something to eat?" 

It's only been a few hours, but she's beginning to look starved already. "As I've already told your employer, that decision falls outside of my jurisdiction." 

"So what, you have to do whatever that creep tells you to do while Nick slaves away to free him?" She seems rebellious, but not hostile, and he sees no cause for alarm. "I do whatever my job requires of me." 

She presses her lips together and says nothing for a few moments, as if she is imagining herself with that kind of work ethic. "Wow," She says finally. "That's got to suck."

The cheerful expression on her face takes him by surprise and he can't help but feel a little amused. "From time to time, I suspect it does."

"Mr. De Killer..." She gives him a pleading look.

He makes a show of taking out his pocket watch and checking the time. He needs to get back upstairs to watch his computer. "I know you're hungry, Miss Fey. When this is over, which I assume will be soon, you'll be released."

She shakes her head. "No, I meant... How is he? How is Nick? Is the case going all right?"

He raises an eyebrow. Usually a hostage is too preoccupied with their own survival to think of anything else, let alone, their professional duties. "Are you expecting me to divulge that information?" 

She shrugs. "Yup."

"Very well. Miss Fey, your employer seems to be doing well. A little too undisciplined for my taste, but he seems to be on the right track. From what I hear, your young cousin is accompanying him."

She nods slightly, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Thank you." 

He sketches the barest hint of a bow. "You're most welcome."

 

*** 

Unfortunately, things don't continue to develop as smoothly. The intrusion of Mr Wright catches him off guard and he puts his escape plan into action. The trial isn't going very well either, and he finds himself in the unusual position of having to participate in it. He has left depositions before, but not via radio, and he finds the experience rather amusing. It is regretful that he has to lie, but his duty to his client leaves no other option. 

Afterwards, the girl is glaring at him from the passenger's seat. "Don't you care that you'll be sending an innocent person to jail?" She pulls on her handcuffs as if to point out that she's contesting her imprisonment. "These things chafe, you know." 

He runs his hands over the brief case containing his remaining equipment. He'd been unable to retrieve the object his client had entrusted him with, and that makes him feel terrible. To make matters worse, his gun had been lost in the commotion.

"They only chafe because you don't keep your hands still. If you did, you would be most comfortable. As for Mr. Andrews, it's regrettable. However, my sole priority is the acquittal of my client. If I have to dispose of a bystander to achieve that, then I will."

Her hands still and she makes a sound that's halfway between a sharp breath and a sob. The tension radiates off her small body.

His hands tighten on the brief case. The black cashmere scarf is probably the best one to use. She's small in stature and the restraints will keep her from putting up too much of a fight. It should take a minute at the most. 

There are worse ways to go, he's sure. Asphyxia sets in fairly early, and unconsciousness follows soon after. Still, the thought of hurting her makes him strangely uncomfortable. If only he hadn't lost his gun... 

"When do you think we'll know?"

He turns to look at her calmly. If it weren't for the handcuffs no one would think she was anything else than a normal young girl, perhaps a bit stressed out over an upcoming exam.

If these are to be the last moments of her life, he should give her his undivided attention. 

"I'm afraid I have no idea, Miss Fey." 

The wind is picking up outside the car, making the leaves in the trees rattle. She wets her lips. "Can't you let me go? I won't tell anyone about you, I swear!" 

This part always comes; the begging. It's a natural reaction in the face of death and he never thinks any less of his victims for it. He won't think less of her. 

"I'm afraid I can't. You should take comfort in the fact that it's not personal. Most of my targets have done one thing or another to make them deserving of death. You are blameless. Be proud of that."

Her eyes widen, like he's speaking in a language she no longer comprehends. He wants to put his hand on her shoulder, but he doesn't have the right to touch her yet.

"I don't want to die," she says in a soft whimper. "Not like this."

She looks so genuinely disappointed that he wishes there was something he could do for her. Suddenly, an idea springs to mind, so preposterous and dangerous that he's only followed through on it once before. 

Before he has the chance to change his mind, he slips his hand into the brief case. He finds what he is looking for within moments. 

She is staring at him, eyes open wide in a mix of horror and courage. A feeling of fondness washes over him.

"There is one offer that is in my power to make you." 

He holds up the small glass bottle in front of her.

*** 

In the end he doesn't have to go through with it. The radio comes back online and Mr Engarde quickly becomes a former client. Shelly decides to leave Miss Fey handcuffed in the car for the authorities to find, which, from what he can deduce from the police radio won't take very long.

He casts a surveying glance at the parking lot. The weather seems to be keeping the people away. Soon he'll be out there, on the hunt for his new target. He's never killed someone for personal reasons before. He can hardly wait. 

He hangs the hand cuff keys on the mirror, and nods curtly. "I wish you the best of luck, Miss Fey." 

The look on her face is equal parts relief and gratitude. He doesn't get to see it often. "Thank you," she says beamingly. "Thank you so, so much."

He shakes his head. "Thank your employer." He hesitates slightly, but illusions are a dangerous thing for a young girl to have. "I would have killed you." 

He's out of the car before she has a chance to come up with a response, and his hurried steps lead him away from any desire to hear it. One assignment finished, the next already begun.

There are hundreds of places to where Mr Engarde can run, but none that will keep him safe in the long run. In the distance police sirens can be heard. Shelly hums to himself as he slips the poison bottle back into the brief case. He's not going to need it.


End file.
